Learning to Trust

Taking one small step toward trust, even when I’m afraid.

When I am afraid, I will trust in You. Psalm 56:3

Growing up, I had no idea what trust was. I learned early on that people could say one thing and do another, that “I love you” didn’t always mean safety, and that promises were often broken. I learned to survive by relying on the only person I thought wouldn’t lie to me – me. But since I had never really known love or trust, I was relying on a skewed version of what my limited understanding could comprehend. I built walls to protect myself from being hurt again and called it strength. Even after I came to know God, I still kept control of the details, just in case He didn’t come through the way I hoped.

When I came into recovery, I brought that same lack of trust with me. I didn’t know how to open up or let anyone in. I told myself it was safer to keep my guard up and just listen. I didn’t trust people, and if I’m honest, I didn’t trust God either. I believed in Him, but I didn’t believe He would show up for me. Deep down, I was afraid that if I really depended on anyone, they would eventually let me down, just like before.

As I kept coming to meetings, I began to notice something different. People shared openly about their struggles and didn’t seem ashamed. They were honest about their pain, but they also had peace. That was new to me. Little by little, I started to believe that maybe it was safe to be real too. People seemed to listen without judgment and didn’t try to fix me. The more I shared, the more I began to feel accepted. Trust didn’t happen all at once, but each time I opened up, the walls I had built started to tumble down. I started to believe what was shared in the readings, that this was a safe place and what is shared here stays here.

As I learned to trust people, I began to realize that God was using them to teach me how to trust Him. Each time someone listened without judgment, encouraged me, or showed up when they said they would, I caught a glimpse of God’s character. I started to see that He had been faithful all along, even when I couldn’t recognize it. Through the consistency of others, I experienced the steady love of a God I once doubted. Trust was no longer an idea I tried to understand; it became something I was learning to live.

Today, I’m still learning to trust. It’s not something I’ve mastered; it’s something I practice every day. Each time I let someone in, each time I choose honesty over self-protection, my hope in people grows a little more. I’ve learned that trust doesn’t mean I won’t get hurt. It means that even if I do, I don’t have to stop trusting. I can’t stop, because it’s in trusting others that I feel loved, and love is always a risk. It’s a risk to love others, and it’s a risk to let them love you back. But it’s a risk worth taking.

Prayer

Father, thank You for being patient with me as I learn to trust again. Help me to lay down my fear and let others in. When I’m tempted to close off or pull back, remind me that You are safe, and that You often show Your love through people. Teach me to love courageously, to trust even when it feels risky, and to see Your faithfulness in every step I take.